Gunning for Gibbs
by Hawkeye4077
Summary: Another alternative ending. This time it's 'South by Southwest'. What if there had been more than the mercenary sent after Dina Risi? Swearing, Gibbs whump and some hurt!Tony too, violence, Gibbs/Tony father/son. Spoiler warnings inside.
1. Introduction

**A/N: I'm back! Did ya miss me?? ... No... Oh well...  
**

**This is my alternative ending to _South by Southwest_ - Season 6 Episode 17 - which was prompted/requested by inkpen1. So thanks for this, inkpen1, and I hope it lives up to your expectations - it's not exactly the same scenario that you gave me, but pretty close. Anybody else think Jerome Sax was suffering from Stormtrooper Syndrome?  
**

**Uhh obviously spoilers for _South by Southwest_, some for _Requiem _and_ Judgement Day _too_. _References to ****_Bête Noire _****and _Heartland._**

**Disclaimer: All things NCIS belong to those lucky people 'across the pond' at CBS. Although, if I did own NCIS, Vance would have died in JD and Tom Morrow would have come back!  
**

* * *

"Head for the rocks!"

Shoving the cell into his pocket, Gibbs turned back to the rest of the group and pointed at the rocky ridge they were already heading towards. Just by the tone of his voice, Tony could tell there was something wrong, very wrong, and he knew not to question his boss' command. Dina Risi, however – not accustomed to the gruff, no-nonsense orders of Leroy Jethro Gibbs, swivelled in her saddle. "What's going on?" Gibbs, with no intention of explaining his order, ignored her and yelled again, more insistent this time.

"Go. Move... Move!" Following Sheriff Boyd's lead, Tony and Dina kicked their horses into motion with Gibbs moments behind as they gallop towards the rocks – their only hope of shelter from the crew of the helicopter. They certainly were not going to be friendly; not if the execution-style hit of Jack Patterson was anything to go on.

As they reached more open ground, the helicopter appeared directly in front of them, a dark-haired figure hanging out the side. Tony, his sharp eyesight once again proving itself, spotted the long, dark barrel of an M4 Carbine. Before Tony even had time to shout a warning to Gibbs or Sheriff Boyd, the figure in the chopper loosed a burst of ammunition, spraying up dust and slivers of rock. Riding as close behind Boyd as he was, Tony barely managed to avoid the aging sheriff as a bullet pierced the man's thigh, sending him sprawling into the dust with a pained grunt. Galloping past the wounded man, Gibbs ordered the other two to go. As the chopper flew past them, out of the gunman's range, Gibbs knew that it was their best opportunity to get Dina Risi out of harm's way. "Keep going! Go!" Another shout from Gibbs had Dina and Tony both riding as fast as they could, only stopping when they reached a large boulder surrounded by trees and long grass. Gibbs, already turning his horse around, pointed at the rocks, yelling to make himself heard over the sound of rotor blades getting closer. "The rocks... take cover!" Tony nodded to the older agent, knowing exactly what he would be doing, then dismounted, pushing the artist with him as he ran to get away from the open ground. He took one glance back at the helicopter and was startled to see it turned round and headed straight for them. "Boss, it's coming back!" He could only watch as Gibbs rode back to Sheriff Boyd, and pull out his gun in preparation to provide covering fire.

Cursing inwardly as he glimpsed the wound in Sheriff Boyd's leg and the blood soaking through the beige trousers, Gibbs was about to reach down to pull the injured man up when he was interrupted. "I'm alright, Gibbs," Boyd tried to sit up, wincing as it put pressure on his wounded leg, "Get the Henry." Immediately, Gibbs knew what the sheriff meant him to do and turned his horse, riding off again. "It pulls to the right!" Gibbs barely heard the shout as the rotor blades roared overhead and DiNozzo emptied a magazine in the direction of the chopper. Reaching Boyd's horse, Gibbs heaved the rifle out of the large holster and, in one fluid movement, swung off his own horse. He took a few steps forward, checking the weapon was loaded, and then took aim, adjusting the sight. The clouds of dust and razor-sharp shards of rock flying up hardly registered as he concentrated, zeroing in on his target. He waited until the bullets hurtling at him were landing mere feet from him before taking one final breath, holding it and then firing. As the helicopter veered off, Gibbs smiled. He did not enjoy killing people, but pulling off such an accurate shot whilst under heavy fire and with an unfamiliar weapon was strangely satisfying.

Tony watched open-mouthed as Gibbs stood calmly in the face of the helicopter and its gun-toting passenger, fired a single shot and killed the pilot, sending the aircraft spiralling into the hillside to erupt in a ball of flame and debris.

_He just killed a helicopter with an antique!_

There was a shrill ring from Gibbs' direction as Tony pulled Dina from behind the rocks and started forwards. Tony watched as Gibbs answered, immediately pulling the phone from his ear as McGee yelled on the other end.

_

* * *

_

"Boss, you okay? ...Boss?!" McGee almost shouted into the headset, ignoring the strange looks the technicians were giving him. He could not help but exchange a worried glance with Ziva as the silence on the other end grew. The short sigh on the other end and even shorter assurance, however, quickly put him at ease. McGee would have responded, but Gibbs hung up as soon as he finished speaking.

_He didn't sound injured... then again, this is Gibbs._

Standing metres from the huge screen in MTAC, McGee and Ziva watched the satellite feed as the group gathered around their fourth member who was lying on the ground.

* * *

Throwing the satellite phone at Tony, Gibbs walked back to Sheriff Boyd and knelt down beside the injured man as he groaned and tried to sit up. "Woah, take it easy, sheriff," Gibbs murmured, placing a hand on the sheriff's arm and helping him into an upright position. He studied the gunshot wound, taking in the blood seeping from it and soaking through the man's pants. Tony and Dina Risi cast a shadow over Gibbs as they came to stand on Boyd's other side, looking around for the spooked horses. "Now we got to round up the horses... How do we do that?" Whining, Tony flexed his legs, trying to rid them of the aching pain from riding the horses – the adrenaline from almost being shot rapidly wearing off. He looked down as Gibbs chuckled softly. He expected some wise-ass comment from Gibbs but not the sheriff. "Didn't your father teach you anything, Di_Nozzio_?" Tony grinned broadly, but Gibbs noticed that it did not reach his eyes.

"Apart from how to report while pouring him a drink?" Boyd smiled as if it had been a joke, but Gibbs knew better. Tony looked away and glimpsed blood on Gibbs' pant leg. He was instantly worried. "Boss, you OK?" Tony knew he would most likely get a gruff 'I'm fine' but it was worth a shot. Annoyed that the younger agent would even think about his boss' injuries over those of someone else, Gibbs glared at his senior field agent with his hands pressed over the bullet wound in Boyd's leg. "Yeah, DiNozzo," he sighed, looking his agent over for any sign of injury and, seeing none, added, "Why?" Tony nearly snorted with laughter as Gibbs glared at him, daring him to even suggest Gibbs was hurt. "Erm... well, boss, maybe because you've got blood on your—" Before Tony could even finish, Gibbs had roughly grabbed his arm, jerking him down so that he was kneeling opposite Gibbs, their eyes level. "I'm fine, DiNozzo. Put pressure on the wound." The Marine stood, his knees popping as he did so, without waiting for a response and started away from the trio. For a moment, Tony watched Gibbs walk away, the slightest of limps developing, then turned back to the sheriff.

After shrugging off his warm sweater, Tony ripped long strips out of the material and handed them to the sheriff. "Is it a through-and-through?" He asked nervously, willing the answer to be 'Yes.' Cocking an eyebrow, Boyd looked comically from his injured leg to the young NCIS agent. "Well now, with that kind of firepower, I think it's safe to say it went straight on through, son." Seeing Tony hesitate, the aging law enforcement officer brushed a hand over the back of his thigh and nodded in confirmation. "You'll have to bind it, Di_Nozzio_. Gibbs'll be back soon; you don't want to keep him waiting." Smiling slightly at the sheriff's astute observation, Tony nodded and began looping the strips of material around the Sheriff's leg.

Dina, unsure quite what to do, just stood there, waiting for someone to tell her what to do. Being exposed to radiation was one thing, but getting shot at... well, that was just a whole different kettle of fish. Obviously it was not unusual for the two agents, but for her, an artist who lived in the middle of nowhere in Arizona, well, getting shot at was definitely _not_ on her list of things to do before she died. Yes; she had a shotgun and yes; she had used it, but now as the younger agent used his own clothing to cover Sheriff Boyd's wound, she realised that her hands were shaking uncontrollably, and not just from the cold.

_Get a grip, Dina! We still need to get to the main road and then to a hospital, and shaking like a leaf definitely won't help!_

* * *

**A/N: Hope you like this. As usual, reviews are most definitely wanted and I'll try to get back to reviewers as soon as I can. Con. crit. and other helpful comments are especially welcome in the Hawkeye4077 camp.**

**I don't know when I'll next update as it's a very busy week for me next week but there are more chapters to come. You'll just have to be patient... and un-Gibbs-like!  
**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: First of all, huge thanks to all the reviewers and for the tremendous response. I hope you continue to enjoy this story.  
Secondly, I really appreciate the help ltjvt1026 gave me in identifying the weapons used in the episode by the badguy in the helicopter. :]**

**I've set this during winter, so it's probably about February/March as this episode came after _Silent Night_, the Christmas Episode.  
**

* * *

They had disappeared, not without a trace, but still Gibbs did not want to track horses for miles and miles, possibly getting himself lost in the process. He stood at the top of the rocky outcrop, scanning the land for any sign of life other than the gentle flames licking at the wreckage of the helicopter. There was nothing: no horses; no buildings; no streams; and other than Tony, Boyd and Risi, no people.

_Have to call McGee when I get back – we're going to need a medevac to get Sheriff Boyd out of here._

Turning full circle, a haze of dust caught his attention. It seemed to be moving in the same direction Gibbs and DiNozzo had in their rented SUV. Gibbs squinted hard; trying to distinguish what it was that was kicking up the cloud. It was too big to be a single horse and nobody had called the cavalry yet: they were most likely more hostiles.

_Great, more paperwork! Should have requisitioned that helo..._

Looking again, he could only just make out a black oblong sparkling in the intense sunlight. Quickly hefting his bed roll – the only thing he had found while tracking the horses – over his shoulder, Gibbs started urgently back down the incline, ignoring the stabs of pain that flared in his shins and knees with each jolting step. He hated winter. No matter how fit he kept during the year, his knee always acted up during the coldest season. Especially on chilly days when he was crashing down an unforgiving hillside.

Tiny rivers of dust and small pebbles cascaded down the hillside as he pounded onward.

* * *

Tying off the last knot in the makeshift bandage, Tony jerked upright, instantly alert as muttered cursing and the sound of scuffing feet reached his ears. He reached nervously for his gun even though it was empty – all their spare magazines had been with the horses. As the muttering came closer, Tony smiled – he would recognise those growls anywhere – but as Gibbs came into sight, the grin was quickly smothered, replaced once again with concern. The younger agent scrambled to his feet and started towards Gibbs, who was limping slowly forward. To Tony, the limp seemed more pronounce. "Boss, you OK?" In true Gibbs fashion, the Marine ignored Tony's question.

"Got more incoming," He grunted, swinging the bed roll off his shoulder as he stalked towards the group. "DiNozzo, call McGee, organise a Medevac from the cabin. There's a large enough clearing there to land." Gibbs brushed past Tony as the younger agent nodded and pulled the satellite phone from his pocket, flipping it open and dialling the familiar number. Gibbs dumped the bed roll at Boyd's side, kneeling down awkwardly to check Tony's handiwork. "Boy did a good job, Gibbs," Sheriff Boyd insisted, smiling genuinely at Tony – Gibbs was not the only one the man could read easily, and at the moment, DiNozzo looked like he needed a little assurance that he was doing the right things. Absent-mindedly, Gibbs nodded as he used one of the thin ropes that held the roll together to strengthen the binding.

When he was satisfied with the added bandaging, Gibbs straightened, grimacing as pain shot through his legs, and extended a hand to the older man. "Can you walk?"

"I can, but I don't think we'll be walking out of here, Agent Gibbs, at least, not without the horses." Grasping Gibbs' outstretched hand, Boyd's voice was slightly less gravelly than it had been when they had met, but the sound still brought a small smile to Gibbs' lips as he thought of DiNozzo's impersonation when they had been in the bullpen. "They've bolted," Gibbs replied simply, as he hauled Sheriff Boyd to his feet and allowed the man to lean on him as he got his balance. Again, Gibbs was ignoring the pain the added weight caused his aching knees. "DiNozzo had the right idea: use a helicopter. We're heading back Dina Risi's cabin. We'll meet the bird there." At that moment Tony walked up, nodding to the sheriff before reporting to Gibbs.

"McGee's calling in the cavalry, boss, but until they get here, we're on our own." He gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, as if he had nothing he wanted more to do than hike back to Dina Risi's log cabin and wait for an uncomfortable evacuation helicopter, while possibly being searched for by a bunch of well-armed hitmen.

_I shouldn't have worn my cowboy boots!_

* * *

Abby's nervous chattering was starting to get on McGee's nerves. He knew she was only expressing her concern for their colleagues but she had been fretting in her lab ever since she had seen the footage of the gunfight. Her usual music had been replaced by depressingly slow dirges, which only seemed to make her more anxious "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God... Gibbs... and, and Tony... Oh my God! What if that was Tony that went down... or Gibbs! Gibbs would never stay down, not even after Ari shot him." She flapped her hands subconsciously and turned to the agent standing stoically in her lab. "Oh my God, McGee, what're we going to do if it was Tony?" Tim thought for a moment, then a smirk blossomed on his face – a product of too much praise from Vance and too few reprimands from Gibbs. "Celebrate?" That earned him a painful and not at all playful blow to the arm, the unpleasant smirk disappearing to be replaced by repentance.

"That's not funny, Tim! He could be seriously hurt, he could be bleeding out right now... McGee, he... He... He could be dead!" Fresh tears welled in her eyes as McGee tried to console her.

"Abbs, Gibbs said they were all fine. If it was Tony, he would have said something." Abby glared at him, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

"And if it was Gibbs?" They both knew what Gibbs would say if he was injured, but McGee was saved from speculating by the ring of his cell.

"Special Agent Timo—" The voice on the other end cut him off rudely but McGee smiled as he listened. "Tony! Are you—" Tim turned away quickly as Abby made to snatch the cell from his ear, and barely caught what Tony said. "Yeah... Yeah, I'll do it... Listen, are you all all right? I mean... Abby's going crazy here because she sneaked in to MTAC and watched the live feed— No, I'm not calling your lawyer in London..." McGee rolled his eyes and had to smother a smile – even in serious situations, Tony found some way to detract from the angst. "Yes, I'll do it as soon as you tell us you're—" The click on the other end told the younger agent that Tony had already hung up, but he muttered back anyway, "Good luck, DiNozzo."

McGee turned back to Abby, a relieved grin on his face. The goth, however, was bouncing up and down in anxious anticipation, her pigtails bobbing up and down. "Well?" she demanded, punctuating her question with a strong squeeze of Bert, her hippo which she was hugging fiercely to her chest. "They're fine," He answered confidently, already dialling another number and holding the phone once more to his ear. Abby glared at him – after all her worrying, the only thing McGee could say to comfort her was that they were 'fine'!

* * *

**A/N: Well, there ya go. A little on the shorter side but this was a good place to break... Also, this alternative ending won't be nearly as long and drawn out as my last one - quite a few people commented on that and I have to admit to agreeing with them.**

**Anyhoo, in the next chapter you'll find out what's up with Gibbs and the action'll kick off after that. *evil grin*  
**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Again, thank you for all your reviews. I really appreciate your support for this story.**

* * *

Slowing as they reached Dina Risi's remote cabin, Tony helped Boyd to sit down on a wooden chair they had left outside after interviewing the artist then went into the small shack to find any first aid equipment he could. The trek back to the cabin had not been particularly long but Sheriff Boyd's injury had slowed them down. Also, despite his repeated protests that it was nothing and that he did not need to rest, Gibbs had limped all the way back and more blood had soaked through the leg of his pants, leaving a bright red streak from half way up his shin to the hem. And, although he knew Gibbs would not appreciate his worry, Tony was concerned as he watched his boss walk carefully up to the front of the cabin.

_It's definitely not just his knees giving him trouble._

Hurling the bedroll onto the wooden steps, Gibbs turned to Dina Risi, who had directed them with great ease back to her home. "Do you keep any other weapons, ma'am?"

"Apart from the shotgun? No. I'm an artist, not a hunter, Agent Gibbs," Risi retorted, her voice steady now that they were mostly out of danger. She strode up the steps and entered her home, coming out minutes later with a first aid kit which she handed to Tony. Gibbs nodded in approval, already scanning the immediate area for ideal places to make a stand from. There were groups of small boulders, about the same size as those Tony had ducked behind while Gibbs shot down the helicopter, which would provide adequate cover whilst also giving a good view of the routes towards the cabin. Gibbs could feel eyes on him and looked up sharply to find DiNozzo studying him closely. Tony immediately ducked away and knelt next to Boyd to check and redo the bandaging around his leg.

* * *

Ducking behind one of the boulders and gingerly sitting down, Gibbs momentarily allowed the pulsing in his legs to wash over him, gasping as he rolled back the light blue jeans he was wearing. There were a few jagged tears in the fabric and his shins were still a mess of purple bruises and deep gashes where razor-sharp slivers of rock had shredded the denim and sliced through his flesh. The slow hike back to the cabin had mostly caused him to forget about the cuts, only slight twinges as his stride lengthened too much served as a reminder, but now that they had stopped walking and a plan had been formulated, the pain came back. He had done his best to conceal his limp but the way DiNozzo had been hovering suggested it had not been enough. Resting his head back against the rock, mercifully cooling it in the hot sun, the Marine allowed his eyes to slide shut. Everything was set. He would hear the helicopter arriving or any uninvited guests approaching, they just had to wait.

A shadow blocking out the intense sunlight that swathed the landscape in gold and reddened Gibbs' eyelids brought Gibbs back to reality and he almost jumped as it spoke. "We need to wrap your legs, boss." Opening his eyes reluctantly, Gibbs squinted up at his soon to possibly be retired senior field agent.

"They're fine, DiNozzo. How's the sheriff?" The silhouetted face twitched into what Gibbs assumed was a smile.

"Sheriff Boyd's fine... The cuts'll get infected if you don't do something about it, boss, and I'm not giving you sponge baths when you go home with an infection and fever." Ignoring Tony's quip, Gibbs tried to stand, only to find a hand pressed firmly to his chest, pinning him to the rock with unusual strength. "DiNozzo..." The growl and warning in Gibbs' tone did nothing to deter the younger agent as he flatly refused to let Gibbs up, pressing a wad of bandage into Gibbs' hands then pulling out a bottle of disinfectant. He was surprised when Gibbs relaxed slightly and stopped fighting to get up, allowing Tony to use both hands to push back the stubborn denim and reveal the cuts. Carefully, he poured the orange liquid onto a cloth. "This is going to sting a bit, boss," Tony said, as if Gibbs had never experienced disinfectant in a wound before, his hand hovering over Gibbs' leg with the cloth. When Gibbs flinched involuntarily as the cloth touched his open wounds, Tony murmured, "Sorry, boss," and worked faster. He would worry about his own imminent and repeated head trauma after bandaging Gibbs' legs and after they were back in D.C.

* * *

It was as if they were interviewing Dina Risi again, only, this time, Gibbs and Boyd were the only ones sitting, their injured legs resting on the third chair – much to Gibbs' annoyance. For the third time, Tony was checking their supplies – a habit that was making Gibbs proud of the way his agent took hold of the situation. The sun beat down on them weakly, making little difference to the cool air that surrounded them, seeping through their clothing, numbing small scratches but making no dent in the pain caused by Boyd's leg wound.

The annoying ringtone of the satellite phone pierced the air, making most of the party jump. Grinning sheepishly at Gibbs – who had not reacted at all – Tony rummaged through his pockets before producing the offending piece of technology with a flourish and holding it to his ear. "DiNozzo." As hurried speech assaulted his eardrum, Tony smirked. "Slow down, McGee. What've you got?" Gibbs whacked Tony's leg from the chair he was sitting on and pointed at the phone. Tony shook his head childishly, refusing to hand it over, and then stepped back, out of reach of Gibbs. "That's good, McGee... Yeah, I'll tell him." Again the phone went back into Tony's pocket as he turned to Gibbs, relief evident on his face. "Evac's two minutes out. Landing southwest of the cabin. Says we should be ready and waiting." Gibbs nodded in agreement as Tony paused.

A small smile blossomed on Tony's face as he remembered the rest of McGee's message. "Abby's been overdoing it with Caf-Pow! again... Says that if we don't come back in one piece, she's going to handcuff us to the chairs in the ballistics lab and not let us out." The twitch of Gibbs' lips was all the response Tony got, not that he really expected anything other than a grunt, but the Marine was staring into thin air. "What're you thinking, boss?" There was a grumble of discomfort as Gibbs shifted his injured leg and then uneasy silence. "Boss," Tony pressed, lowering his voice to a concerned whisper that was for Gibbs' ears only. Surreptitiously, Gibbs glanced at Sheriff Boyd but the older man was asleep, or unconscious, Gibbs did not know which. Dina had gone back inside to make them all a much needed cup of coffee while they waited.

When he looked back up at Tony, Gibbs answered Tony's silent question in a barely audible whisper, "How many have we lost, Tony?" It was not the question but the unusual vulnerability in Gibbs' gruff response that caught the senior field agent off guard, and for a moment Tony was confused. "Boss?"

"Pacci, Paula, Langer... Lee... Kate... J—" Cutting off abruptly, Gibbs scrubbed a hand through his silver hair and stared off into the middle distance. Affecting a rare, Gibbs-like silence as he contemplated all the agents they had lost over the years, Tony stood up and scrutinised the surrounding dust-covered landscape. As Tony tensed, Gibbs could tell something else was wrong, without being able to see the apprehensive frown. "Uh... boss, we got problems!"

* * *

Striding confidently through the vegetation two hundred metres ahead of the two NCIS agents, eight men approached the isolated cabin, M4s slung over their shoulders. They did not care about making a noisy, blatant approach – they assumed Gibbs and the others had been dealt with by the helicopter – they were only the clean-up squad, after all – a heavily armed, largely inefficient afterthought.

* * *

**A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to all you Americans out there! I have to say that I really enjoyed the Thanksgiving episode but I'm disappointed I have to wait another few weeks to see the next episode! Oh well, I'm sure the excitement of university interviews and getting offers will make them pass with more interest...**

**The next chapter will be up on Sunday so until then, keep on reading and reviewing and I'll see how getting the ending written goes. :] Oh and the action really _will_ kick off from here on!  
**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Once again, thank you for all the kind reviews and I hope you enjoy this next chapter... I had meant to put it out earlier, but I got distracted playing Modern Warfare 2 xD  
**

* * *

Pushing himself up and out of the chair, Gibbs turned to Sheriff Boyd and helped him do the same. Covertly, Tony stood within reaching distance of both men, ready to catch one of them should their injuries cause problems. "You need to get to the clearing now," Gibbs was looking Boyd in the eye as the man steadied himself on one leg, but he was speaking to Risi as well. The artist nodded in agreement, her dark brown hair shimmering slightly in the sunlight, and then slid under Boyd's right arm, glad that it had not been one of the taller NCIS agents that needed urgent medical attention.

After making sure they were following his orders, Gibbs turned back to DiNozzo – who he had sensed hovering next to him while he stood – only to find the younger agent already hunkering down in the middle of a group of boulders about fifteen metres from the cabin. Gibbs felt a swell of pride as he realised Tony – his agent and the closest thing he had to a son – had chosen the ideal spot to launch a counter-offensive. Thoughtfully, Tony had unfurled Gibbs' bedroll and laid it on the ground as protection for his knees – but mostly for Gibbs'. As Tony turned to watch Gibbs crouch awkwardly, Gibbs asked, "Getting old, DiNozzo?"

"Nah. Just don't want to ruin these pants," Tony replied, grinning as if this were the best experience he had ever had. Gibbs rolled his eyes in mock exasperation before clamping down on his emotions and returning to his usual, unreadable expression. He unzipped and then reached into the deep right pocket of his navy waistcoat, producing (much to Tony's relief and amazement) his service pistol and handed it to his senior field agent. "And here I was, thinking I was going to have to throw rocks at them," Tony muttered, his playful grin making Gibbs' fingers itch to slap the back of Tony's head.

They knew the men employed by the mining company to take out any and all opposition to their mine were searching through the scrub and getting closer to the small wooden hut by the minute – soon they would be able to see the chimney – but getting the civilians out of the way was the first priority for the agents. Gibbs knelt calmly on the thin bedroll, the adrenaline coursing through his veins veiling the pain in his legs, repeatedly and systematically checking the rifle. As he did so, Tony nervously kept watch, Gibbs' pistol loaded and ready to fire. As DiNozzo swept the area again, Gibbs chuckled. "We'll hear them long before they're within range, DiNozzo," reasoned Gibbs as he cast a cursory glance over the SIG P229 gripped loosely in Tony's right hand. Although Gibbs knew it was in perfect working order and fully loaded, he felt the compulsive need to check and double check it.

* * *

Meanwhile, Risi and the sheriff shuffled away – as ordered by Gibbs – arms wrapped round each other's shoulders toward the clearing where their rescue would land. The bandage Tony had wound tight around the bleeding injury was doing its job, if not a little _too_ well: his leg was starting to go numb because of cut off circulation. At least it meant that the pain was lessened slightly, although each step was still agonizing. It did not matter: in twenty excruciating steps, they would be at the landing zone for the helicopter and when it arrived he could take the weight off his leg for as long as he wanted. He would not have to wait long.

* * *

As Gibbs began what seemed to Tony to be his hundredth weapons check, raised voices nearby caught his attention and he dropped to his knees like a stone. The men Sunset MiningCorporation had sent after them were obviously expecting Gibbs and the others to be dead: they certainly were not being quiet as they approached the cabin in plain sight. There were only six of them, each armed to the teeth and with enough technology between the six of them to last McGee a lifetime. The man in front – a tall, thick-set man with a couple of days' stubble peppering his face – was obviously the leader of their little gang as he was quick to delegate tasks. Tony rolled his eyes.

_These guys are _really_ stupid! There's no way _Head Honcho_ is going to let these guys live once the job is done: that would mean splitting the payment._

So confident were they of not being overheard that they almost shouted to one another. "Joey brought grenades, just blow the whole lot, idiot! Then let it burn!" Shaking his head at Tony's slightly incredulous, boyish grin, the Marine sniper was tempted to take out each of them from where he crouched behind a rock, one by one, but he knew that would be suicide – there was no way he and Tony could easily out-shoot a team of six, not with a single-shot rifle and a pistol (Risi's shotgun would be pretty much useless at this range, and they really did not have time to spend reloading and ejecting spent shotgun shells).

"Stay out of sight, DiNozzo," Gibbs whispered, deciding to play it safe. "There's enough distance between us and the cabin that we won't get caught in the blast if we lie down." Tony nodded, willing to let Gibbs take charge of a situation he had probably experienced before. As Gibbs peered round the edge of his rock, he watched the men level M4 Carbines at the cabin. The two agents were stuck between them, unwilling to reveal their position just yet, as an explosion of noise erupted from the muzzles of the weapons, spraying Dina's small wooden hut with scorching metal and ripping holes in the wood panels. Several shots went way off target, though, smashing into the NCIS agents' shelter, scattering shards of rock and covering them in a fine dust. As one particularly wayward bullet tore into the ground mere inches from his feet, Tony cast a worried glance at Gibbs, their silent communication working overtime.

_If we stay here much longer, there won't be much for us to hide behind._

Another shot crashed into the rock Gibbs hid behind, tearing away a large chunk and almost revealing the Marine to the other men – a quick glance at Tony showed that the younger agent was in a similar position. They nodded to each other, knowing instantly what was going to happen next. The lull in the lead onslaught came to a sudden halt sooner than they had expected but both agents sprang to their feet, subconsciously taking in the fact that their assailants were not reloading but instead pulling the pins from several grenades, not just one. "Shit! Run, DiNozzo!" Gibbs yelled, already pushing DiNozzo forward, propelling him away from the cabin. They both ran as fast as they could away from the six men, praying they would not be spotted but knowing it was an unlikely scenario.

Tony was quicker than Gibbs and as soon as he reached the next boulder he provided covering fire for his boss, only breaking off to allow Gibbs time to drop painfully to his knees beside him. However, the unnerving silence that followed had both Gibbs and DiNozzo peeking over the rock, revealing to them the reason why there had been no return of fire. Ten feet ahead of them, three grenades rolled gently to a halt. Impulsively, Gibbs reached for the back of Tony's jacket and pulled him down, covering Tony with his own body. He pressed a hand against the back of his head even as he shouted, "Down!" and a wave of dry heat whooshed over the two agents.

When the dust had settled, Gibbs sat back against the rock – ears ringing – while Tony popped his head cautiously up from behind their shelter, immediately dropping back down as bullets whizzed past his ear, pinging off other rocks and burrowing into the ground. As the ringing faded away, both agents became aware of the deafening _thud-thud_ of helicopter rotor blades overhead.

The hail of bullets stopped again and Gibbs peeked warily over the top, ducking back instantly as yet another round tore into the rock they hid behind. It was starting to look like they were pinned down. Gibbs glanced towards the landing zone, watching as Boyd and Risi were buffeted by the powerful downwash even though they stood out from under it. Looking over at Tony, Gibbs yelled, "DiNozzo, as soon as they're on the bird, you join them, got it?" Before answering, Tony pushed up and squeezed a couple of shots off into the bushes then bobbed back down as more hot metal slammed into the rock inches from his face. "_No_, boss! We'll both go at the same time, that way you'll have enough cover to get out." Angrily, Gibbs shook his head, his fierce blue eyes drilling holes into DiNozzo, before popping up as well (not wanting to be outdone by one of his agents), steadying his aim and loosing a single round. There was a shrill yelp as his target flopped back into the dust, blood spurting from his chest.

Crouching behind the boulder once more, Gibbs looked back towards the pair making a slow shuffle to the waiting bird and watched with relief as they both clambered into it. The two agents ducked as automatic weapons fire bounced off the body of the helicopter. Waving frantically at the pilot, Gibbs motioned for them to take off. "This is not a debate, DiNozzo! Move your ass before I do it for you!" Suddenly, the Marine swung round and faced Tony, raising the rifle. With Gibbs levelling the rifle in his direction, Tony was fleetingly afraid the Marine would shoot him then, as the round thudded into another target's chest, he breathed a sigh of relief.

_Two down, four to go._

Gibbs, however, was still glaring sharply at him. "Go!"

"Boss, with your injuries you'll never—"

Gibbs thrust the rifle at Tony, loudly clearing the weapon he had just relinquished from the fallen man's grip. Gibbs' face was set – in determination, anger or pain, Tony could not tell – and DiNozzo knew there would be no further discussion. "Now, DiNozzo, or that early retirement won't be an option!" The Marine growled between bursts of automatic gunfire. Tony nodded, slinging the less-accurate and slow-loading rifle over his shoulder before reaching for Gibbs' service pistol again.

Hesitantly, searching Gibbs' face for any clue as to what the man was thinking, Tony jumped up and fired six more shots, his random shooting rewarding him with only one cry of pain and then angry shouts from the other attackers. Without looking to see whether there was anyone nearby, Tony started sprinting to the place where the chopper had previously been. It was now hovering seventy feet above them with a ladder dangled from its side. He heard Gibbs fire another couple of well-aimed shots but could not tell if they found their target as he was now in the helicopter's downwash. Sweating, adrenaline coursing through his veins, brain working in overdrive, Tony reached for the rope ladder and automatically began climbing. About half way, he glanced down at where Gibbs had been. A few errant shots slammed into the fuselage above his head, and showered Tony with sparks. He could not tell if they were aiming for him or the agents' ride out of there.

_Just as well Gibbs didn't take Probie with him..._

* * *

**A/N: As always, reviews are appreciated, especially those with constructive criticism! Although 'I love this' kind of reviews are pretty encouraging too.**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: I know I say it every time, but I really do mean it: thank you all for your reviews! Keep 'em coming, please! :] Oh, I should also say that this is pretty much Gibbs- and Tony-centric from now on... (I probably should have said that at the start but... *shrug*)  
**

* * *

_C'mon, DiNozzo! Get your ass in the bird!_

From glancing at Tony, who was almost halfway up the ladder, Gibbs turned his attention back to the two remaining men currently hammering his cover with hot metal. At the next break in gunfire, Gibbs rammed the rifle stock into the hollow of his shoulder and fired off two short bursts of ammunition. The M4's previous owner had been less than conservative with his rounds and the Marine had almost been shot rifling through the man's pockets to find a second magazine on the still-warm body. A head poked round the side of what little remained of Dina Risi's cabin and more shots rattled off in its direction, missing Gibbs' intended target by only a few inches as the man ducked back.

The same head peered round the corner for the second, and last, time – hoping to catch Gibbs off guard. Instead, a single round tore through his skull, blood splattering everything around the man. Gibbs smiled – the training he had had drilled into him ever since joining the Corps would never be forgotten. The brief satisfaction was cut short by movement off to Gibbs' right and he swivelled towards it only to be forced behind the boulder again as bullets fizzed through the air at his head. Without waiting for another pause in the assault, Gibbs' head bobbed up and he squeezed the trigger.

_Click._

Gibbs squeezed the trigger again.

_Click._

Nothing.

No muzzle flash.

No jarring recoil.

No cracking report.

Just a bone-numbingly terrifying _Click_.

"Shit!"

Frantically, Gibbs threw himself to the ground, ignoring his protesting knees and the stinging pain of rough material scratching across his leg wounds, as the aggressor's weapon kicked and even more metal flew at him. There was nothing else for the NCIS agent to do. The man's crooked smile only grew as realisation slammed into Gibbs like a wrecking ball. He was effectively unarmed (a knife was not much use against a man with a gun, and he was no Ziva, that was for sure). Carelessly tossing the M4 aside, Gibbs pushed himself off his knees, barely managing to stay conceal behind the rock.

_Only one thing for it, Jethro..._

Steeling himself, Gibbs glanced once again at Tony before pushing up from his crouch and firing forward as if from starting blocks and it were the hundred metre sprint.

After ten strides, however, he was slowing down. There was no doubt about that. There was only so much that adrenaline could drown out before pain started coming back, and now that pain was hounding him relentlessly. Gibbs pushed on even as the familiar twinges in his left knee started again, gritting his teeth as each painful, stumbling stride took Gibbs closer to safety and further from goon number six. If it were not for the fresh injuries he had sustained while concentrating on the helicopter and its heavily armed passenger hampering his movements, Gibbs figured he would easily make it to the Medevac. But, as it was, his knee and shins screaming with each step, he just was not going to make the distance.

Unfortunately for Gibbs, his troublesome knee had slowed his progress significantly and given the sole remaining attacker even more time to take careful aim at the back of Gibbs' head. He might have been standing forty feet away but Gibbs, chancing a quick glance over his shoulder, could easily see a sadistic smile spread across his face as the man pulled the trigger back to first pressure. Gibbs turned away again, picking up his slow pace ever so slightly, repeating the only mantra his brain could manage.

_Right leg, left leg, pain, breathe... Right leg, left leg, pain, breathe. Right leg, left leg... _

As if hunting an animal, the man tracked Gibbs' jerky movements as the Marine staggered forward, one hand reached out desperately toward the swaying ladder. There would be no warning for Gibbs – the wind drowned out any and all sound. Second pressure was reached. The weapon kicked.

* * *

Stopping and looking down again, Tony saw the Marine was running-slash-limping to catch the ladder, saw stumble and barely stay upright. "C'mon, boss," He muttered from his position half way up the ladder. Tony could only watch in horror, hurriedly sucking in a breath, as one attacker advanced, a menacing grin that was visible even from this distance on his face, his gun aimed at Gibbs' back. Tony shouted a warning to the stumbling man but it was already too late.

The muzzle flashed. The weapon's report was not audible over the _thud-thud_ of the rotor blades, but Tony had already started down the ladder when the round tore into Gibbs' flesh. Gibbs was only a few strides from the bottom rung now, but the force sent him sprawling into the dust, the bottom rung just out of reach of his outstretched right hand, where he lay motionless.

_No, no, no, no! Not again, not so soon! Oh God, we can't lose another one! I can't lose Gibbs, too!  
_

* * *

In hindsight, Gibbs would realise just how fortunate he was to have an injured, weakened leg, but now, as he hobbled as quickly as the damaged joint would allow, he felt only pain and intense frustration. Gibbs was so close, he could see the patches of dust Tony's impractical cowboy boots had ground into the small grooves.

_Just a few more steps, Jethro. Then you can reprimand DiNozzo's choice of footwear._

Motion on the ladder above him sent it skittering away, out of his range once more. He took another step, the familiar twinges in his knee suddenly giving way to blinding pain shooting up the length of his left leg. His vision blurred, and he felt himself crumple. Then intense, blinding pain erupted in his shoulder and everything went blank for a moment before the ground rushed up meet his battered body.

_Bastard shot me!_

Gibbs' head cracked against a dusty rock as the momentum of the projectile threw him forward, and he collapsed on his right side, the breath whooshing out of his lung. He lay there, whimpering in excruciating pain, his right arm subconsciously reaching for the ladder even as his body weight crushed the new wound in his shoulder. Bright red blood from the gash just below his hairline trickled down his face, running gently into his mouth. A haze of darkness settled at the edge of his vision, spiralling inward until his eyes slid shut and his aching muscles went slack.

* * *

Whether it was the cold air battering his body and making his clothes snap wildly that roused him, or the strange sensation of lying in some warm, sticky liquid, Gibbs could not tell. Everything was fuzzy – his memory, his hearing, his sense of direction. What he did know, however, was that his head was killing him, and as if that was not enough, it felt like he had been shot.

_Wait... I _did_ get shot, didn't I?_

He groaned and cracked one eye open, then shut it again as deafening, rhythmic thud of the helicopter rotor blades made him feel even more nauseous, trying desperately to remove the imprint of spinning blades from his mind. When the nausea finally abated and the fuzziness in his brain dispelled, Gibbs realised he was half lying on his back, half on his side. His left arm was draped across his chest, his right crushed beneath him. He rolled fully onto his side and planted his left hand in the dust, squeezing his eyes tight shut as pain bolted through his knee and shoulder.

Stars danced in front of his eyes as he attempted to push himself to his feet using one arm, the other hanging useless at his side. The dust kicked up by the downwash whirled around him, stinging his eyes and scouring his exposed skin, grinding into the wound in his shoulder. He dropped back to the ground, managing only to roll onto his back, as white hot pain seared through his shoulder and down the length of his arm.

Groaning softly as he ran his tongue along his lips, Gibbs tasted the metallic liquid dribbling from his mouth and down his chin, and instantly the nausea that had remained at the fringes of his senses returned full force, adding to the throbbing headache that occasionally permeated the burning pain in his arm. With one last hopeful glance skyward, Gibbs allowed the darkness to return and claim his consciousness as its own.

* * *

**A/N: There you go! Another 'cliffie' xD And, unfortunately for my brilliant, kind and mature readers, this is going to be the last update until Thursday the 10th of December. University interviews beckon! *screams hysterically* Wish me luck!**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you all for being patient and understanding and for leaving reviews, and I am sorry for making you wait so long (seems as though my interview went well though, so maybe it was worth it...). Also, happy birthday to SnowFox3 and I hope this is a good present!  
**

* * *

_Previously_

_Groaning softly as he ran his tongue along his lips, Gibbs tasted the metallic liquid dribbling from his mouth and down his chin, and instantly the nausea that had remained at the fringes of his senses returned full force, adding to the throbbing headache that occasionally permeated the burning pain in his arm. With one last hopeful glance skyward, Gibbs allowed the darkness to return and claim his consciousness as its own._

* * *

Continuing to climb back down the rope ladder that swung precariously in the vicious flurry of cooling air and stinging dust, Tony ignored the shouts from the aircrew above him, arriving almost at the bottom just as a hail of bullets pinged off the helicopter. Looking up in surprise as he veered violently to the side and then started gaining height, Tony saw the winchman beckoning him up urgently. He knew immediately what he needed to do.

_He might not be dead..._

Focusing on that positive thought, Tony glanced down again and broke into a huge grin. Gibbs had rolled over – he was definitely alive, but also unconscious, if the relaxed features of his face were anything by which to go.

_You saved his sorry ass once, Anthony, you can do it again!_

Taking a deep breath and then without hesitation, Tony jumped down the last few metres of the ladder, landing awkwardly and crashing clumsily to the ground. "Ow... Crap!" If he had not been wearing stiff cowboy boots, DiNozzo was sure he would have sprained his ankle.

As soon as Tony managed to stand upright after his less-than-graceful landing, he ripped the rifle from his shoulder, tossing it away so that he could move more easily - not that he had a clue how to reload the damn thing! He scampered towards the unconscious man and grabbed the weapon lying next to him. Tony glanced worriedly at the motionless form on the ground but had no time to do anything other than check for a pulse – weak but steady – before he remembered Gibbs' shooter.

He looked over the rock and was surprised to see the man – seemingly the last shooter – slowly advancing. Checking the M4's magazine, Tony stood up, snarling viciously, and brought the weapon (the butt rammed forcefully into his shoulder) with him, aiming it with precision just between the man's eyes. "Gibbs is going to be really pissed now! And do you know who'll have to deal with his A.M.A. hospital antics?" Tony allowed himself an inward smile at his own smart-ass comment. The other man stared at him in confusion. "That's right: his team; his _family_! Me!" The other man raised his own weapon now, still staring at Tony as if_ he_ was the crazy one, but did not have time to fire – Tony had already put a round through the man's head.

Dropping his weapon, Tony rushed back to Gibbs' side, falling carelessly to his knees and scrabbling to unzip the dark waistcoat before pulling the thin shirt out of the way. "Boss! ...Boss, c'mon, wake up! Gibbs, please don't do this to me again!" The bullet had gone clean through Gibbs' flesh but seemed to have miraculously missed his clavicle, leaving the marine in severe pain and with muscle damage. The nasty head wound was giving Tony the most cause for concern, however, and with Gibbs' history with head trauma he had good reason to be concerned. Fresh blood dribbled continuously down Gibbs' face, mingling with the already blood-soaked dust, from the inch long cut that ran parallel just above his right eyebrow. Pressing hard against the bullet wound, Tony tried to rouse Gibbs again. "Boss, if you don't wake up, I'll have to call Abby and tell her you're refusing to go back."

No response.

For the first time, Tony became aware of the near silence that had descended over the dusty area – the helicopter had finally gotten out of range of the other mercenaries' weapons and they had stopped shooting. A fact that, if they had been _on_ the chopper, Tony would be grateful for, but as the two agents were on the ground – with no way of knowing where the gunmen were – he felt less than appreciative. "Boss, c'mon we've got to go. I've got to find out what that lawyer in London wants!" This time, Gibbs' eyelids fluttered then opened, revealing his blue eyes, turned glassy by the pain. As DiNozzo's face swam into vague focus, Gibbs groaned. "Mmm... 'wake, Tony," he grumbled almost incoherently, wincing as Tony pressed harder into his shoulder, "Stop yellin'..." Smiling apologetically, nervously, Tony studied Gibbs' unfocused eyes as they finally met his own. "You with me, boss?" he asked softly, hoping for some sort of coherent response. However, before DiNozzo even had a chance to talk him out of it, Gibbs somehow managed to heave his back off the ground and sit up, immediately slumping against DiNozzo's chest, his eyes tight shut against the pain, his head lolled forward. Under his breath, Tony swore coarsely as the other man's breathing became even more haggard.

_The last time I had to hold Gibbs up like this, he went on a full-blown, vengeful, one-man crusade to find one terrorist... Pretty sure our 'terrorist' is one crispy critter now though!_

Gibbs was not quite unconscious; he hovered at the edge of darkness, fighting its pull with all his remaining strength. He forced himself to concentrate on something else; anything else, so long as it was not the black oblivion waiting to smother him. "DiNozzo," he gasped, taking a deep breath to combat the pain, "You OK?"

"I'm fine, boss, but we need to get you to a hospital," Tony replied, wincing as Gibbs sent one of his infamous glares his way. Since he was already being glared at, Tony proceeded to ask all the usual questions for those with head injuries, much to Gibbs' annoyance. Fortunately, Gibbs managed to respond to most of them with little hesitation, only spluttering to a halt when he tried to remember what had happened. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Tony smiled, despite Gibbs' irritated scowl – at least he was not going to lapse into a coma any time soon. Or so Tony hoped.

Tony had been kneeling at Gibbs' side, but now he stood, somehow managing to maintain some of the pressure on Gibbs' gunshot wound. "Do you think you can stand, boss? I was thinking we should try and make it back to the four-by-four." Frowning slightly, Gibbs tried get up, hissing each time his left knee moved. At first, he contemplated using his right arm but the pain that shot through his shoulder as he tried to move it took that option off the table. Instead, Gibbs looked up at Tony in frustration and let their honed silent communication do the talking. Understanding Gibbs' stubborn refusal to ask for help, Tony reached down, grabbed the wounded man's left arm and pulled.

Repeatedly telling himself that he was accepting Tony's help only because of the woodpeckers hammering into his skull, Gibbs allowed Tony to pull him up. Blood rushing noisily in his ears, the senior agent almost collapsed back to the ground as he gingerly lowered his weight onto his injured knee. In fact, he would have done if his agent had not caught him. Silently, Tony slung Gibbs' uninjured arm round his shoulders and waited, listening anxiously as Gibbs struggled to take in air and remain conscious in his new, completely upright position. Despite Tony's strong grip on his uninjured arm, Gibbs swayed, closing his eyes to make the dizziness go away.

When Gibbs finally managed to get his erratic breathing under control, however, he lifted his head slowly and looked around blankly. "Four-by-four?" he whispered, trying to sort out the jumble of images that tumbled through his mind's eye as he recalled the day's earlier events.

"Yeah boss, the one you drove down that God-awful pot-holed track at your usual break-neck speed," Tony retorted softly. For a moment, Gibbs looked completely confused. Then he nodded once and his eyes seemed to burst into life and started frantically scanning the area, despite him only being able to make out blurred, indistinct shapes. "Boyd? He was injured – shot."

"Yep. Dina Risi – the artist – and Sheriff Boyd made it onto the chopper, but they were taking fire and pilot pulled out. I'm sure McGee and Ziva'll have us another ride out of here in no time, though, boss," Tony reassured Gibbs, while doing his best to get his bearings. The shoulder wound was still bleeding, but without any way of stopping the blood flow, there was little Tony could do apart from keep applying pressure.

Finally managing to orientate himself, Tony shifted Gibbs' weight against his side and pointed in the direction he thought they had come. "We're going to go that way, boss." DiNozzo glanced at his watch, noting that it was nearing 10 00 hours, then turned to Gibbs, his voice full of optimism as he added, "Hopefully we'll reach the rental just as it's getting dark."

"Just get on with it, DiNozzo..." Gibbs grunted, drawing himself up as straight as he could manage and gingerly putting weight on his left leg before taking a step forward.

Tony muttered, "Getting on with it, boss," then swore quietly as Gibbs' leg gave out from under him, threatening to pull them both to the ground. Only gritted teeth and sheer determination kept Gibbs from passing out as pain lanced through his damaged limb. Tony waited until Gibbs' head bobbed back up before asking if he was OK, but the response was barely coherent anyway. Taking most of Gibbs' weight, Tony slowly stepped forward, and was surprised when Gibbs mirrored the action with only a sharp hiss.

It was going to be a long walk, but with the two remaining gunmen presumably hot on their heels, they could not afford to slow down or stop too many times. Tony sent up a quick, silent prayer to whoever was listening and then focused on getting Gibbs out of this mess.

* * *

**A/N: Worth waiting for? Don't worry, there won't be another long gap between updates from now and I should be finished by Christmas! As usual, reviews are welcomed and much appreciated... now I'm off to play Call of Duty 6... *read* Proof-read next chapter so it can be posted on Saturday and then finish off the parts I'm writing at the moment.  
**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Firstly, thanks for all the reviews. **

* * *

Cresting the small incline, Gibbs stumbled again, the last vestiges of his strength already spent hours ago, and would have ended up sprawled in the dust if it were not for Tony's holding him up. The combined pain in his knee and shoulder had reached unbearable levels and it took all of Gibbs' concentration just to stay on his feet, but now fresh, excruciating pain flared through the joint and he staggered to a halt. Tony, however, did not stop, but continued, almost dragging Gibbs with him. "DiNozzo..." Gibbs gasped, sucking in a shallow breath as his knee was jarred, "Damn it, DiNozzo! Stop!" His exclamation came out as little more than a whisper and Tony continued forward urgently – the gunmen could not be far behind the two agents.

"We can't, boss, they're gaining on us fast." Somehow, Gibbs managed to lift his head from his chest and startle Tony.

"Stop, Tony... Please!" Tony took another step, pulling Gibbs forward with him until he registered the desperation, the pleading, in Gibbs' voice.

"I'm really sorry, boss, but we need to keep going."

Tony could feel pinpricks of tears forming as Gibbs looked at him with bleary, unfocused eyes but quashed them – knowing Gibbs would misinterpret the concern as pity. The usually inexpressive Marine looked pale and feverish, hovering on the edge of consciousness. More than that, he did not even attempt to hide his pain, which was the first thing Gibbs did when he was injured. Swallowing hard, Gibbs nodded once, wincing at the renewed throbbing against his skull, then grunted, "I know. I just... I..." He stared at the ground, embarrassed to admit that he needed something in front of his senior field agent, despite the agony he was in. "I could do with a five minute breather myself, boss. Maybe we should rest up here a bit..." Gibbs managed to smile weakly, showing his gratitude to the younger man, then without complaint Gibbs let Tony take his weight and lower him to the ground. He leant back against a rock and closed his eyes, willing the nausea to go away as he took deep calming breaths to block the pain.

After getting Gibbs settled on the ground and checking the bandage (in reality, it was a torn strip of Tony's shirt) that was tied loosely round the man's head, Tony perched uncomfortably on another boulder. His eyes flashed alternately from his boss to the landscape, trying to work out where they were.

_If we weren't being chased by some trigger-happy, over-zealous mine mercenaries then this might be an attractive place... _

He looked back at Gibbs, who seemed to have fallen unconscious again, and chuckled as he remembered how Gibbs could sleep anywhere, anytime. Tony glanced involuntarily at his expensive, designer watch and groaned.

_No wonder my feet hurt like hell! We've been wandering through this damn desert for more eight hours now._

"Damned if I remember where we are though, boss," he muttered, getting up and rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness that had entered his muscles. Apart from the bushes and waist-high boulders, there was little shelter and even fewer places to hide, but the rocky outcrop to their left that Tony had followed looked to offer a good vantage point.

Glancing over at the still motionless Gibbs for the last time, Tony started scrabbling his way up the rock face. For what seemed like the millionth time this trip, he found himself cursing his completely impractical choice in footwear. It took him the better part of five minutes to reach a small, flat area from which he could scan the area for their pursuers. Standing up straight and squinting against the setting sun that bathed some areas of the dusty landscape with orange light and plunged others into cold, dark shadow, Tony could see some movement approximately one hundred metres to the south of their rest spot. Turning to look north, Tony broke into a broad, relieved grin.

There, behind the low bushes, less than a hundred metres from them, was the most beautiful sight Tony had ever seen – a black SUV shining in all its glory in the waning sunlight.

Still smiling elatedly, he was about to start climbing back down when there was a muffled crack and chips of rock flew past his head, leaving thin, painless scratches on his cheeks and exposed forearms. Tony ducked instinctively and then began to climb down, noticing Gibbs was awake and almost alert. "Boss! We got to go!" he called, jumping the rest of the way down. A razor-sharp edge of rock caught his arm and sliced through his flesh, starting a steady flow of blood down his limb, but he merely his hissed and hurried over to Gibbs. "DiNozzo?" Gibbs slurred, confused by Tony's boyish grin, still aware enough to know that there should not have been blood spotting his agent's face and trickling down Tony's arm.

Tony hauled the Marine to his feet and slung Gibbs' uninjured arm round his neck once more then started in the direction of the vehicle. "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Tony asked playfully as he shuffled forwards with Gibbs. The weak growl told him all he needed to know. "Right. Good news. We've found an SUV and we're very close—" Gibbs' head jerked up at this and there was a flash of hope and relief in his blue eyes. "—But those mercenaries have caught up with us."

When there was no response from Gibbs, Tony glanced over at the older man. Gibbs had a tight, determined smile and he seemed to be taking more of his own weight. As if feeling Tony's gaze on him, Gibbs spoke up, his voice full of confidence, the pain momentarily masked by hope, "We'll make it, DiNozzo." Gibbs shifted his weight on Tony a little and then took another cautious step forward, relying on Tony to sweep branches out of their way.

Tony nudged Gibbs in the ribs gently as they staggered through the last of the bushes and out into open space, causing the man to raise his weary head and smile. Tony could not help but laugh at the convenience of it all. "Well, this is handy!" he snorted softly to himself.

"Never look a gift-horse in the mouth, DiNozzo," murmured Gibbs, making Tony start, momentarily stunned by Gibbs' weak yet lucid remark, then smile.

"Unless it comes from Troy." He was greeted by a stoic glare. "Shutting up, boss," Tony grumbled, casting his eyes back to the open ground ahead of them. There was not just one vehicle – there were four. One of them was their very own rental, to which they owned the keys; one was Sheriff Boyd's; the other two must have belonged to the group of hitmen. The agents stumbled over to their vehicle and, gently fishing in Gibbs' pockets, Tony pulled out a set of keys, unlocking the car and then helping Gibbs into the passenger seat – for once without protest. Cautiously, as though expecting Gibbs to slap his hand away, Tony pulled the seatbelt across Gibbs and secured it, then straightened up and looked back at the bushes they had stumbled through.

Tony had no doubt that their pursuers were getting very close and, with Gibbs barely able to stay conscious for more than a few minutes, there were only three options for the senior field agent: drive off now and hope the men did not follow – risking civilian lives if they did; wait for them to come and then take them out with the M4 Carbine that was strapped tightly across his back (what with taking Gibbs' weight and all the effort Tony had put into getting back to the rental, the weapon had been completely forgotten); or go and find them.

In the end, as Tony pushed the passenger side door shut, his mind was made up for him. The last two men had caught up with them finally and emerged from the bushes, with much noisy rustling and a few coarse swears – Tony was sure he heard one of them ask why _they _had to traipse halfway across Arizona to catch some feds. They scanned the open ground, looking for human shadows and faint footprints in the dust, but Tony had already hidden, ducking behind Sheriff Boyd's truck and holding his breath with anticipation. He could hear them stalking slowly around the trucks, one of them coming to stand on the other side of Boyd's truck, the thin plates of glass in the windows all that stood between DiNozzo and the man – Girl Hands, Tony called him, because of the neatly cut fingernails and small hands (which looked completely out of place on the hitman).

Although he could not see the other mercenary, Tony could hear the man scuffing his way towards the rental in which Gibbs was slumped. There was no more time for careful planning of his assault and Tony flicked the safety off in case he was spotted. Then, just as slowly and quietly, Tony slid his belt knife out and began to creep round the front of Boyd's vehicle, cursing his poor choice of footwear with every step. Peering round the bumper, Tony was relieved to see that his hearing was almost as good as his eyesight – Girl Hands was the only bad guy in sight, meaning the other one would not see DiNozzo when he attacked Girl Hands.

Waiting patiently until Girl Hands turned round, Tony tightened his grip on the knife handle and then sneaked forwards, still semi-crouched, concentrating hard on keeping quiet until he was within a foot of his target. His heart thudded in his mouth and blood rushed through his ears until it was all he could hear, his mind completely focused on the task ahead of him and not on any external stimuli.

_I guess Gibbs passed on the super-dooper sniper sneaking skills._

Straightening up suddenly, Tony clamped a hand over the man's mouth and jabbed the knife into the man's kidneys, remembering Gibbs', and Ducky's, explanation as to why a knife is twisted into the flesh. For a minute, Girl Hands struggled, clawing at Tony's vice-like grip over his mouth and then went limp in his arms, leaving Tony to drag the body to the front of the truck and lay it down softly. After wiping the blade clean, Tony slid the knife back into its sheath on his belt and loosened the straps that held the M4

As he went to stand up, DiNozzo froze, the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up alarmingly, his gut churning. "Come look at this, Thompson!" called the other mercenary. There was a short pause as Thompson (aka Girl Hands) failed to respond and then a slightly nervous, "Thompson? This isn't fun and games, you know!" Smothering a smile, Tony crept forward, staying out of sight of the other man, and listened as the man's footsteps came closer and closer. "If I tell the buyer you were slacking off, there's no way you'll get paid!" Breathing through his mouth, Tony brought the M4 up to a ready position, watching as the feet came within four metres.

Three metres. Two metres. The next step would bring Tony into sight as he stood up. One metre. As the other man's widened in surprise at seeing DiNozzo, Tony swung the butt of the rifle at the man's head, taking a step forward and putting all his bodyweight behind the weapon as it crashed into the man's temple with a sickening crunch. The man dropped like a stone and lay, semi-conscious, on the ground. Momentarily stunned at his own strength, Tony stood there, stock still as the man's blood ran into the dust, until a thought broke through his shock. "Sorry, but Thompson's going to be permanently slacking from now on," Tony growled before jogging back over to their rental.

Reaching it, Tony yanked open the driver side door with more force than he intended – the adrenaline from his latest encounter still rushing through his blood – and looked at Gibbs. Instantly, his adrenaline rush faded to be replaced with fear. "Boss?" he whispered, taking in the pale skin and closed eyes. Gradually, Gibbs' eyes opened and he managed to focus on his agent. "Boss, I'm going to take care of their rides. Just in case... You know," Tony added softly, waiting for any sign of disapproval from Gibbs, but it did not come. So, flashing Gibbs a playful grin, Tony pulled out his belt knife again and jogged to the nearest vehicle. With something akin to vengeance, Tony slashed all four tires and then moved on to the next car, repeating the action. Watching him tiredly through half-open, hazy eyes, Gibbs realised how much he would miss the younger agent if he _did_ take early retirement, with his annoyingly entertaining jokes and his admirable way of protecting younger agents from the wrath of Gibbs.

"You OK, boss?" Tony's concerned voice broke Gibbs from his thoughts and he jerked forward, gasping in pain as his shoulder felt like it was on fire. DiNozzo was sitting in the driver's seat and had already started the engine. Again he was studying Gibbs with unconcealed worry. Weakly, Gibbs nodded, realising then that even small movements sapped his strength with ease. He leant his head against the cool glass window and allowed his eyes to slide shut, the darkness claiming his thoughts.

* * *

As Tony slung the rental into drive, his breathing finally having calmed down, he nudged the wounded man with his elbow. Gibbs' eyes were closed, and the younger agent's action elicited only a pained grunt. Glancing worriedly at his passenger, Tony started the car forwards. "C'mon boss, wake up. I can't do _all_ the work. It's your turn to navigate," he whined, desperately hoping that Gibbs would wake. There was no response. "What if they've got another chopper? I'll need you to go all John McLane again." Again Tony nudged Gibbs, this time in the thigh and with more force. The response he got was almost more unnerving than the man's unconscious silence.

Gibbs' eyes opened, unfocused and glazed with pain, and stared across at DiNozzo. "Doubt it... Tony."

"Boss?" Tony knew Gibbs hated being fussed over and repeatedly asked if he was OK, but could not stop the concern from creeping into his voice once more.

"Not even McLane was that unlucky..." Gibbs mumbled with a ghost of a smile, shifting in his seat and cursing colourfully as the vehicle hit a bump and jarred his injured leg. Keeping one eye on the dust track, Tony glanced over and watched Gibbs' blue eyes disappear behind heavy eyelids. He opened his mouth to speak but Gibbs seemed to read his mind. "'M awake, Tony... Stop fussing and drive." No sooner had Gibbs finished than he lost consciousness again, his head drooping back and leaning against the headrest, and Tony decided to leave the man be, taking to focusing on the road instead – a task which was becoming increasingly difficult, Tony found.

Tony had driven almost ten miles along the bumpy dust track by the time he realised what was wrong with him. His right hand was slick with blood and the sticky red liquid had soaked through his jeans as it dribbled continuously from his arm. Everything was fading in and out of focus and he barely had the strength to keep his foot on the accelerator. He glanced at Gibbs for one last time and then his eyes closed involuntarily, his brain not even registering the fact that they had been approaching a corner at close to thirty miles per hour.

* * *

**A/N:****This chapter is a _lot_ longer than I intended - seeing as you guys like your twists and turns xD I would have had it up earlier if it weren't for having a broken finger + metacarpal... (Think (field) hockey stick edge accidentally between you right middle finger and ring finger and then apply force = crunch, displacement of joints, breakages and pain.)**

**Anyway, this chapter was originally without the whole 'Tony owns some badguys****' thing then I thought it was kind of wimpish and too easy a way out - hence the extra 1000 words...Was it worth it?**

**As always, reviews are welcome and will more than likely get a response of some kind.  
**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: I've kept this from you for long enough so all I will say is thanks for all the reviews and apologies for the late update.**

* * *

Gibbs woke with a start, groaning as he jerked his shoulder forwards. He brought his left hand up to his brow as his head thumped back against the headrest. If it was possible, Gibbs' headache was worse than it had been before. Gibbs scrubbed the hand down his face, wondering idly why he was in a car, and grimaced as he mentally took stock of all his other aches and pains. His knee felt worse than it had done in years, he was sure his shoulder was bleeding—

_Again..._

—but, by God, the headache was bad! He stared out of where the windshield should have been. The shattered glass littered the interior, glinting in the light of the headlights. It looked as if they had gone down an embankment and collided with a large, rocky protrusion at the bottom – presumably the cause of his waking as their rapid descent came to a sudden stop. He was about to give in to the oblivion that seemed intent on hauling him into its nothingness when something fluttered at his ear and subconsciously, Gibbs recognised it as part of DiNozzo's shirt.

_Wait, what?_

"Tony!" Gibbs yelled, jolting forwards – his headache spiking – then looking across at the driver's side.

_Shit!_

DiNozzo was leant forward, his cheek resting heavily against the steering wheel, blood streaking his pale face. With renewed strength, Gibbs reached across with his left arm – the only part of his body _not_ screaming in protest at any and every movement – and shook his agent. "DiNozzo," he grunted urgently, aware of the darkness slowly encircling his vision once again. "Tony!" yelled Gibbs, but Tony did not react. Gibbs tried to take a breath but the thick mixture of dust and exhaust fumes that swirled into and around the car choked him, causing him to cough violently and repeatedly, the pain in his shoulder flaring which each one. As the coughs subsided, he managed to take a shallow, shuddering breath. Even the racket Gibbs had made hacking up a lung had failed to rouse Tony and he remained slumped unconscious in the driver's seat.

_I'll soon be joining him..._

Gibbs' eyelids drooped threateningly, but Gibbs refused to give in, instead tasking his good hand with rooting awkwardly through Tony's pockets – the ones he could reach, anyway – until his fingers hit something cold and angular.

Unfortunately, his tenuous grip on consciousness slipped again, and, seemingly moments later, Gibbs awoke to find his head lolled forwards, the throbbing headache beating a painful rhythm against his skull, and his hand limply clasping a black box, which he recognised vaguely as the satellite phone. He struggled to open it and then thumbed the keys he needed. When he went to lift it to his ear, however, he found all the strength he had left mysteriously vanished.

* * *

McGee's ringing desk phone startled the young agent as he stared blankly at his monitor – his brain shutting down with exhaustion and worry for his missing colleagues. It had been ten hours since the helicopter supposed to pick his teammates up had reported taking fire and being forced to leave Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo in the desert, and there had been no news since the crew's arrival back at its base with Boyd and Risi safely in tow. "Special Agent McGee, NCIS." He answered tiredly, expecting it to be Abby or Ducky who were keeping each other company in her lab. There was no response on the other end, just the gentle growl of a running engine, and the occasional hiss. "Hello? Is there anybody there? Hello?" he asked, getting increasingly impatient. He could hear heavy, laboured breathing on the other end, now, and sporadic grunts. What he heard next nearly had him jumping out of his chair. "_M' Gee..._"

"Boss? Oh my God! Are you all right? Where are you guys? The rescue crew said—" he stammered nervously as a thousand other thoughts sprang to mind.

"_...Gee, don't know... where..._" Gibbs' weary, pained mutterings stopped as he inhaled a short, rasping breath and then coughed as dry dust assaulted his throat. "_Tony injured... got to get... help..._" Frantically, McGee's fingers raced across his keyboard, instantly starting a trace on the call, while Gibbs coughed again, harsher this time, but with less vigour.

When they subsided, Tim asked clearly, "Boss, are you hurt?" He waited for a reply but there was none; only brief gasps for air and then the clatter of metal on plastic. "Boss? Gibbs!" he yelled urgently, but his calls fell on deaf ears as Gibbs had finally lost his hold on consciousness and dropped the phone down the side of his seat, letting painless darkness consume him, his head thumping back gently against the headrest.

* * *

_Thud-thud._

The repetitive sound thundered through his ears, perforating the blissful silence of unconsciousness. Momentarily, he wondered where he was and why the noise could not go away, then he slipped into the darkness once more.

_Thud-thud. Thud-thud._

His eyes cracked open and he rolled his head to the left, letting it rest on his shoulder, wincing as it pulled on his shoulder wound. Through his unfocused eyes, he could just about make out a body sitting next to him, a brace encircling the form's neck, and an unfamiliar face at the driver's side window. From his right, a reassuring voice drifted through the haze and constant thudding, but it could not be deciphered.

_Thud-thud. Thud-thud._

His head rolled back to the right and he came face-to-face with a man in an olive green jumpsuit, a bright flashlight attached to his shoulder illuminating his face and upper torso. The man smiled but the darkness was already returning, and all the last thing that was heard was his name being called.

"Agent Gibbs!"

* * *

The relentless pounding in his head simply refused to be ignored any more. It was as if the entire drum-playing, pneumatic-drilling, wood-chopping population had decided to hold a gathering in his head, and all at the same time. He did not open his eyes but let his other senses seek out information on his whereabouts. The strong scent of antiseptic and alcohol hand gel claimed most of his attention – indicating ominously that he was, once again, a resident of a medical establishment – but he could also feel something warm and calloused resting limply in his left hand. He tried to turn his head in that direction, but pain spiked through his shoulder as if he had been shot again. The involuntary groan that escaped his dry, cracked lips was accompanied by tensing muscles, weakly squeezing the thing in his hand. Gibbs heaved in a breath, hissing as the ache in his shoulder intensified, scrunching his eyes shut even tighter. Blood rushed in his ears, drowning out all external sounds, but he could have sworn there was a new, reciprocal pressure wrapped around his fingers.

Finally managing to get his breathing under control, Gibbs slowly became aware of sound other than his own wheezing.

_Ah hell! Definitely a hospital._

The incessant beep of a heart monitor quickened and a concerned, vaguely familiar voice broke through the fog that had settled in his mind. "Leroy?" The pressure on his hand squeezed, harder this time. "Agent Gibbs, can you open your eyes, please?" Confused by this new voice, Gibbs began to thrash, ignoring the lancing pain running through his knee and shoulder. The one voice he expected to be there, expected to reassure him and ask him to open his eyes, was not.

_Where the hell is DiNozzo?_

"Leroy? Open your eyes, son." There was that same, faintly recognisable voice – it sounded like the owner was pleading with him. A firm hand pressed against his left shoulder – comforting, encouraging – and Gibbs could not help but squint at the hand's owner. His vision was still blurred but Gibbs could see it was a man with white hair, who was standing at his side. The Marine blinked repeatedly, slowly clearing his vision, and he found himself looking up at the one man he did _not_ expect. "Dad?" Gibbs croaked, gripping Jack's hand tighter as the man smiled in obvious relief.

Another face drifted into view on the other side of his bed. "Agent Gibbs, I'm Doctor Rogers. Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital," Gibbs grunted, flinching as the doctor flicked a penlight in his eyes. The man looked young, too young to be a real doctor treating _real_ patients.

"That's right. You're in Saint Joseph's Hospital." The young doctor flicked his gaze to the man standing at Gibbs' side. "Do you know who this man is?" Gibbs rolled his eyes.

_Do they teach them _anything_ at med school?_

"Father," he answered hoarsely before looking back at Jack. "Wa'er?" From his son's scratched face, Jack glanced up briefly and silently asked the doctor's opinion. The young man nodded, handing Jack a plastic cup with a straw in it.

After a couple of greedy sips by his son, Jack withdrew the cup and placed it on the bedside cabinet. "Do you remember what happened?" Gibbs nodded once slowly and then began telling the two men what had happened.

"...DiNozzo— Ah God! Where's Tony?" Frantically, Gibbs tried to push himself up into a sitting position, only to be crippled by pain in his right shoulder. Gritting his teeth and hissing, he sagged back against the pillow and closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing and control the pain. The low rumble of orders being given seeped through the haze of agony but Gibbs could not decipher them. A moment later and the pain had abated to tolerable levels and he opened his eyes again, looking straight into the frightened eyes of his father. "Leroy, Tony's all right. He's bruised and dehydrated and has a very nasty cut to his right arm. Busted up his knee a little in the crash and he'll be on antibiotics for a while." Gibbs' eyes widened in concern and his heart rate and blood pressure increased alarmingly, squeezing his father's hand like an orange in a press. Jack took that as his cue to reassure his son that Tony would be making a full recovery. "He's fine, though, Leroy."

"Which is more than can be said for you, I'm afraid," the young doctor added. "You lost quite a bit of blood and took a nasty blow to the head. You've been unconscious for two days since search and rescue found your truck in the desert," Rogers explained as Jack settled into the chair at Gibbs' side, his hand still gripping his son's tightly.

Gibbs could feel his eyelids drooping as the doctor spoke and, despite his best efforts, found that he simply did not have the strength to stay awake. He let the doctor's long words and complicated explanations of the tests and procedures that his body had been put through the past forty-eight hours wash over him. The last thing Gibbs saw, as his eyelids slid shut and conscious thought ceased, was his father's reassuring smile telling him everything would be OK, that DiNozzo had survived their jaunt in the Arizona desert and not been infected by Valley Fever – which Tony had seemed determined he would catch again.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked this - let me know what you thought. I hadn't realised how much I had posted already and this is, I'm sorry to say, actually the penultimate chapter! Don't worry though, the next chapter will be up on Saturday and is a _lot_ longer!**

**Also, did anyone see last night's Christmas episode?  
**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Firstly, thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter! That was quite a response! :D**

**Secondly, I feel I should warn you that this final chapter is probably _not_ what you expected... to be honest, it's not what _I _expected either!  
**

* * *

Tony limped into Gibbs' room, trying to be as quiet as possible by avoiding all obstacles that could possibly catch his crutches, then dropped heavily into the chair at Gibbs' side. Even to Gibbs, who was lying half-asleep in bed, DiNozzo looked anxious, tense, angry even – although it was well masked. After closing his eyes momentarily, Gibbs opened them again and scrutinised Tony's injuries. There was a cut with stitches above his eyebrow, nearly identical to Gibbs', where his forehead had met the steering wheel, but aside from that and the slight protrusions where a bandage wrapped his arm and knee, Tony looked pretty healthy considering their adventure. He continued observing his agent, waiting for Tony to reveal what had him so preoccupied.

After a few minutes, however, the silence stretching between the two agents was beginning to become uncomfortable for both parties, but Tony was damned if he would break the silence. Gibbs shuffled cautiously, weakly back on the bed and studied his agent's weary posture. "You OK, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, already anticipating the response.

"Fine, boss, better than you," the younger agent replied flatly. Tony's voice was strained, as if he was barely managing to hold back a torrent of angry words, and Gibbs shifted to look at his agent properly, concealing a wince as he put pressure on his injured knee. There was something wrong, and Gibbs' gut was telling him Tony was inches away from revealing all, all he needed was a little prodding – that could wait for a few more minutes. "Ziva and McGee were here yesterday but they had a crime scene to process and then Vance ordered them home. Abby and Ducky were here too, but you were completely out of it," Tony informed Gibbs, keeping his report to the barest minimum so that he would have to spend as little time in a room with Gibbs as possible. Gibbs nodded, happy to accept Tony's explanation as to why there was only him and his father in an Arizona hospital, still watching his agent with concern as he tried to figure out what was wrong.

Lightly, intending it be a gentle enquiry, Gibbs asked, "So... You going to take that early retirement, DiNozzo?" Tony's head shot up and he glared at Gibbs, his expressionless mask slipping and his face contorting in anger and pain. "That what you think I should do, boss? Just up and quit while your case-closing reputation is still intact?" Gibbs opened his mouth to speak, completely surprised by Tony's outburst and the path it had followed, but the younger agent carried on, his voice getting louder all the while, "While you still have some agents that aren't complete screw-ups?" Automatically responding to DiNozzo's obvious anger, Gibbs raised his hands to stem the flow of words, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. His initial shock had been replaced by anger, and, too tired to shut away his emotions, Gibbs let it show on his face.

"What the _hell_ are you on about, DiNozzo?" The chair DiNozzo was sitting in was flung back as Tony launched to his feet, his face turning a deep shade of red and his eyes hardening.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about! The first few months on the _Seahawk_ gave me a little time to think things through, to work out _why the hell _you let the team be split up, why I had to spend four months of my life on a ship. I mean, OK, the first few weeks I thought you just needed time to... grieve, but by the end of the first month I realised what was going on—"

"DiNozzo..." Feeling his own heart racing, Gibbs again tried to stall Tony's tirade but had no luck. He could see the reddening skin of Tony's face and neck even in the half-light.

"—You blamed me for Jenny's death. The trouble was, boss, I started to believe that I was responsible; that it was my fault! When I got back, I assumed that you had come to terms with it; that you had realised I wasn't to blame, but nothing had changed. I was grateful that you'd fought Vance to get me returned to D.C. but I'm not sure it was worth it after all." Despite his assurance that he was fine, the outburst had left him more tired and out of breath than he had expected and Tony had to stop to take a deep, shuddering breath, allowing Gibbs to speak.

"Firstly, I'd have done it for anyone, DiNozzo," the Marine explained quickly, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Gibbs realised what he had said – what he had implied – and so did Tony.

_Jesus, I just can't say anything right to DiNozzo!_

Taking a step back from the bed, Tony balled his hands into fists and continued to glare angrily at Gibbs. "DiNozzo, I didn't mean—" Gibbs started, becoming increasingly agitated by his agent's worrying behaviour, only to be cut off abruptly by his senior field agent. "Oh no? I've never known you – Leroy Jethro 'Second B's for Bastard' Gibbs – to ever say something you didn't mean," Tony yelled back, picking up his crutches and limping determinedly towards the door. When he reached it, Tony turned back, his eyes red and glistening – even though he was already chastising himself for this rash show of emotion, and trying to rein his anger back in – and to see his agent in such a mess almost broke Gibbs there and then. "Thanks for reinforcing my father's belief that I'm nothing but a worthless screw-up who'll never accomplish anything in their life!" He slammed the glass door forcefully as he stormed from the room (as fast as he could on crutches) and along the corridor, almost knocking down Doctor Rogers as he went.

_I should have known! It was just too good to last! Anthony, you're nothing but a fucking mistake – a stupid, gullible, useless mistake!_

_

* * *

_

Gibbs sat stunned for a moment, cursing the renewed throbbing in his skull and his stubbornness over revealing emotions, and then came to a decision. He did not know why Tony had snapped, although he had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with painkillers and one too many manipulations by his superiors. But what Gibbs did know was that he had to fix his mistakes. Now.

"DiNozzo!" he yelled from his bed, leaning over to look further down the corridor, grimacing as it pulled at his stitches. When there was no response, he gingerly swept the thin covers from his legs and shuffled to the edge of the bed, cautiously planting his right foot on the ground and then his left. With one hand, he clumsily disconnected his IV – an action that had become ingrained in his memory after numerous previous escape attempts from hospitals – and put all his weight on his good leg then slowly spread it over both, wincing at the twinges in his knee. He was already feeling dizzy and nauseous, and he had not even started walking yet. Gibbs took one shuffled step forward and immediately regretted getting up. Pain flared in his knee and for a moment all Gibbs could see were black dots swimming in his vision. Then he felt strong hands grip his arms and everything went black.

* * *

Jack Gibbs had taken his time freshening up at the hotel, where he and DiNozzo were staying now that the younger man had been released, but now, walking purposefully down the hall towards Gibbs' room and catching sight of Tony steam-rolling his way towards the exit, eyes red and cheeks flush, he was regretting making that decision. Angry was not really a strong enough word to describe the look on his face – pissed; enraged; furious, they were all reasonable, powerful enough and accurate descriptions.

As Tony brushed past him, Jack tried to get the young man's attention but Tony was either too absorbed in his own thoughts or did not want to know and carried on down the hall.

_What has Leroy done now?_

Deciding that the younger agent would need some time to calm down before being spoken to, Jackson continued towards his son's room, raised voices from inside making him move faster.

When he reached the doorway, Jack could see his son thrashing furiously as doctors and nurses attempted to sedate him – something that was not helped by Leroy's removal of his IV. As one of the nurses cried out triumphantly, Jack pushed his way into the room and wormed through the hospital staff to the agitated man's side. "Leroy!" he called, trying to get his son's attention as he continued to fight the medication, "Leroy, calm down!" Gibbs did not answer, moaning softly as the sedative began to take effect.

Jack turned to the doctor and asked worriedly, "What happened?" Taking the opportunity to usher Jackson Gibbs out of the way of the nurses as they settled his son, Doctor Rogers gently led Jack to the other side of the room – where the concerned father could still see his son but was not in the way. "He was having a... word with Agent DiNozzo, got pretty heated I can tell you. Gi— your son's blood pressure and heart rate were rocketing so I came to investigate. Almost got floored by Agent DiNozzo on his way out." Jackson nodded, remembering his own brief encounter with Tony in the hall. Slowly the room emptied of nurses and Jackson started to pull a chair up to the side of Leroy's bed, watching him in concern as the doctor continued. "Your son was trying to follow his agent and almost collapsed not two steps from his bed."

Earning a small smile from the young doctor, Jack muttered, "He always was a stubborn child, hated hospitals and staying still." Then the elder Gibbs pulled the chair closer to his son's side and sat down, settling in for the long haul.

* * *

It was cold outside, freezing even, but DiNozzo did not care. Dressed in his own clothing which Abby had brought for him from his apartment, Tony sat stiffly on a hard bench outside the hospital, thumbing the keycard for his hotel room. It was a five minute cab drive from the hospital and he had some change kicking around in his wallet, but still Tony sat motionless on the bench, preferring the outdoors to the stale air of the room. Meticulously, he went over everything that had happened to the team, to him, in the last few years, thinking through each confrontation, each betrayal, each manipulation and working out what it was that made him the so angry.

Just thinking about it made Tony so furious that he wanted to march back into Gibbs' room and punch him as hard as he could. Deciding that was not a good idea, Tony slowly stood up, his injured knee protesting, and walked over to a waiting taxi and asked the driver to take him to his hotel. He would have a shower and then sleep. For a long time. Maybe after that he would be a little calmer and be able to face Gibbs again.

* * *

_Fourteen Hours Later_

Walking stiffly – the manner he had become accustomed to more and more frequently during cold days and after sitting still for too long – Jackson Gibbs exited the hospital through the automatic sliding doors and started along the concrete path, pulling his thick overcoat close to his body and stuffing his hands in his pockets. Jethro was still sleeping, and – according to his doctor – would hopefully stay that way for the next few hours. Having sat in the uncomfortable chair at his son's side for almost seventeen hours straight – dozing for minutes at a time and eating even less – one of the nurses had turfed the elder Gibbs from the room, insisting that he go home, or at least to the families' accommodation, and get some rest, a shower and something to eat. Jackson had flatly refused until the nurse had taken his cell number and promised to have someone call if there was any change.

Five strides past a wrought-iron bench, Jackson Gibbs stopped and turned around, staring in disbelief at the young man sitting there, hunched over with his elbows leaning heavily on his knees, tension and anger radiating steadily from him. Slowly, Jack lowered himself onto the metal bench beside the man and waited a beat before speaking. "Tony?"

Aside from the slight deepening of his frown, Tony did not respond; did not expose any of his weaknesses or failures to this kindly old man; did not look up and allow the man to see how damaged and worthless he was. "It's cold out, Tony. What're you doing sitting here?" Wordlessly, resolutely, Tony sat back, his back stiff and straight as he gazed straight ahead, avoiding Gibbs' father's eyes. Jackson let Tony gaze off into the distance for a few more minutes and then placed a hand gently on his shoulder, fully expecting to have the gesture shrugged off. He was surprised when Tony turned to face him. "I can't talk to you about it," Tony said simply, knowing he sounded childish but not caring at that moment, concentrating instead on keeping his anger in check. A small, sad smile flickered across Jack's face as he thought of a response, knowing exactly where the, so far, relatively one-sided conversation was headed. "What's Leroy done this time?" he sighed, leaning back against the chilly metal slats. Tony's eyes screwed up and he tried to stand, really not wanting to listen to Gibbs' father defend his son's actions, only to find the hand on his shoulder pressing down firmly.

"Leroy's my son, and as such, I am expected to defend him, Tony—" Tony was about to interrupt when Jackson raised a hand to stop him, silently asking the young man to let him say his piece. "—I've spoken to Leroy maybe twice since you came to Stillwater, and both times, he's told me – in that round-about way he's adopted – how proud he is of you and what you've become." Again, Tony went to speak, but Jackson kept going, ignoring Tony's tense and frustrated body language that told him DiNozzo was just about fed up of Jethro's indirect praise. "I know, from personal experience with the man, that Leroy is less than open with his emotions, but the pride, happiness and trust he has now is something I haven't seen since he lost his first wife," Jackson finished confidently, watching Tony's face for a reaction. Tony's eyes screwed up and he pinched the bridge of his nose with the fingers of his right hand. "Right now, I don't think Gibbs trusts me with an empty coffee cup," he muttered sullenly. "I'm not sure _I_ trust _him _anymore. Hell..." Tony growled, unintentionally sounding very Gibbs-like, "I'm not sure I trust myself, Jack!"

Frowning wearily, Jackson Gibbs realised that it was going to be a long and slow process getting his son and Tony back on track. He stayed silent as he waited for DiNozzo to elaborate. "...Did he tell you about the time he sent me and Ziva to infiltrate a heavily guarded facility as part of a security test? I bet he didn't tell you the guards were using live ammunition, or that they didn't know we were agents. He certainly didn't tell me that!" Tony yelled, his anger at the man he had thought of as a father-figure for the past eight years boiling over for the second time.

"And I ended up with a rifle butt in my face without so much as a 'How d'you do? Would you like a drink?'. Then it turned out to be part of an even broader scheme concocted by Gibbs to rat out a traitor! And do you know what your _son_ did?" Tony asked bitterly, glaring accusingly at the elder Gibbs – as if he would know everything the boss had said that day in autopsy. "He said he knew I could handle it! As if that would make up for it!" Tony puffed out a short, angry breath and pushed himself up from the bench, shrugging of Jackson's firm hand, before pacing furiously back and forth in front of the bench – his injured leg making little difference to the harried movement. "Well, I guess he was wrong!" Tony yelled, startling a passer-by, who gave him an odd look and hurried on her way.

Patiently, Jack waited until DiNozzo had slowed his pacing before shaking his head solemnly and saying, "No, he did not."

Deciding Tony was calm and receptive enough to accept reason and to honestly think through the information he was about to divulge, Jackson placed a hand comfortingly on DiNozzo's shoulder. His and Gibbs' relationship had suffered from one too many incidences of breaches of trust and lead to their severance of communication, and having experienced that, Jack felt pretty certain that letting the men settle it on their own was not going to solve the problem or even balance it precariously on the side of cool anger, rather than hanging perilously close to destructively-powerful fury. Jack took a deep breath and looked Tony right in the eye – trying to assure the man he was being completely truthful. "What Leroy did was a breach of the fundamental bond of trust that has formed between you two. You feel betrayed, cast aside, but I think you underestimate the loyalty Leroy has for his team and for you, but for you most of all. Do you think it was easy for him to lie to his senior agent? To lie to a young man he has grown so close to that he is practically family?" Mutely, reluctantly, Tony shook his head and sighed.

Jackson rubbed his hands together to dispel the cold that had settled in them and then continued. "That last night you spent in Stillwater, Leroy asked me if I had worried about him getting injured or killed while overseas on operations. Of course, there was only one answer to that – yes." Jack nodded as he remembered that late night during which the only way to get Leroy to talk had been to ply him with copious volumes of Bourbon. "He told me about one time he'd been terrified of losing his son, and at first I was a little confused, then he began talking about some Y-pestis and lung-scarring and, from giving you a sweater to keep you warm at my house, I realised he was talking about you. My son may play his feelings and emotions close to his chest, but when it comes to you, Tony, he's as easy to read as a child's picture book."

Jack had been watching DiNozzo, but now the younger man broke his gaze and stared into the middle distance, his mind churning. "I don't think he feels that way anymore, if he ever did," Tony muttered, already lowering his expectations to prevent disappointment and ultimately the painful rejection that would inevitably come. "Oh, you don't? Then who do you think the first person he asked about was when he woke up?" It was Jack's turn to glare at Tony. "Who the hell do you think he climbed out of bed to find out if they were OK, only to pass out without taking more than a step? He thinks of you as his son, Tony, and I think... deep down, he's the father to you that you never had."

The elder Gibbs took one last pause, making sure with absolute certainty that he knew what he was going to say and how he was going to phrase it, then drew Tony's attention with a hand on his arm. "He trusts you. With his coffee, his damn boats, his life and everything in between, he trusts _you_, Tony! You. I'm not sure Leroy even trusts me with all of that, Tony."

Jack fell silent, letting the dust settle and Tony come to terms with everything that had been said, then pulled his hand from the younger man's arm. Tony immediately missed the warm, silent comfort that the elder Gibbs had been providing, but he needed time to think and reflect so he stood up, clapped his hands together and then turned to Jackson Gibbs. "Thanks, Jack." He lingered a moment later and then turned on his heel and walked away, limping again as his injured knee twisted uncomfortably, leaving Jack to sit alone on the bench.

Jack glanced at his watch and sucked in a surprised gasp. Almost a whole hour had passed and Leroy would soon be waking from the effects of the sedatives. He stood, stretching his back laboriously and then walked quickly towards the separate block that was used by patients' families for long term or sudden stays in the hospital, deciding that he would shower and eat something with more consistency than the watery Jello the hospital had on offer.

* * *

A silhouetted form standing in the doorway to his room attracted Gibbs' attention as he lay on the hospital bed in the semi-darkness. "DiNozzo..." Gibbs sighed softly, closing his eyes as another wave of fatigue washed over him. "Sorry, boss, one of the nurses said you were asleep, but I didn't mean to wake you. I'll just go now and come back in the morning... I think Abby was going to do escape prevention duty tomorrow... but Vance called her and McGee back to D.C. Not that they were too happy about it, though. McGee said she threatened to make clones of Bert and—"

"Hey," Gibbs called quietly to his agent, intentionally interrupting Tony's nervous ramblings as he opened his eyes again. His voice was soft, layered with fatigue and undoubtedly trying to catch the younger agent's attention. He squinted at the dull, white ceiling tiles, trying to come up with the words to say how he felt. "We need to talk, Tony..."

"Look, boss, if it's about the inheritance and that retirement thing... and me going off all half-cocked, I'm sorry. I should have known you'd have my six..." DiNozzo trailed off, realising Gibbs was smiling knowingly at him. Although Gibbs could not see his eyes, Tony still would not look the Marine in the face.

_Jumped the gun again, Anthony... I've really got to stop doing that!_

With one shoulder, Gibbs shrugged nonchalantly before glancing out at the shadowy trees in the parking lot before looking back at his agent. "It's not about that, DiNozzo. It's... ah... it's about that case last year..." Rolling his eyes up, Tony dredged through his memories, searching for unusual cases that bore the slightest resemblance to this one. None came to mind. Gibbs supplied the answer, "...Maddie..." Tony's mouthed form an 'o' as he remembered. Gibbs gazed intently out of the window despite the darkness outside.

"When we got to the hospital after you... resuscitated us, the only thing on my mind was Maddie..."

"Boss... Gibbs, I understand. You were worried about her. You didn't think you could... trust us to stay out of your past." Tony wished Gibbs would turn and face him, at least then he would be able to almost tell what the Marine was thinking. "But you could have asked," he added, a faint smile pulling at his lips. For a long moment, Gibbs was silent, then he took a deep breath and took the plunge. "I do trust you, DiNozzo, more than anyone, but I still couldn't ask. I knew I was risking my life and my career, but I couldn't do that to you..." Gibbs paused, turning to face his agent, taking in the gratified smile. "I was so intent on saving her... from everyone and everything, that I forgot you, DiNozzo." He stopped, taking as deep a breath as his wounds would allow. "It was like... like saving her would be saving Kelly as well." Gibbs' pale blue eyes pinned Tony to his chair, daring him to interrupt. "I didn't even thank you, Tony. Just went back to normal: as if you hadn't found us; hadn't shot two men while running; hadn't dived into freezing, polluted water; hadn't dragged us both out onto the pontoon... as if you hadn't saved our lives."

Tony interrupted then, uncomfortable with all the praise coming his way. "Boss, I was just doing my job. Anyone else would have done the same." Gibbs raised his left hand, a slight tremble to the motion, and brought Tony to a halt.

"No. What you did, Tony, was more than that. If you had caught pneumonia or some other God-awful disease from that harbour, you could have _died_! But still you did it, and all for some grumpy, old Marine bastard with a dodgy knee, three ex-wives and an unfinished boat in their basement." Tony opened his mouth again to protest Gibbs' blatant self-depreciation but Gibbs carried on regardless, "I let you down then, DiNozzo, and I'm not going to do it again this time... Thank you." Gibbs pinned Tony with an intense look, as if daring the younger agent to detract from the gravity of his sentiment.

Tony waited a beat, squirming under Gibbs' gaze, slightly embarrassed that his boss thought he was worth so much. "Guess that means you owe me, Gibbs," Tony added, grinning, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Twice!" They both laughed this time, the final tendrils of tension in Tony's body drifting away as Gibbs smiled back at him – in that fatherly, encouraging way he had.

"I guess I do. And when you want to collect, Tony, my door's always open." The two men might not have covered everything that had plagued DiNozzo since returning from being an Agent Afloat, but some things could not just change overnight, and a little of their trust in each other had already been restored.

* * *

_All I have is one last chance  
I won't turn my back on you  
Take my hand, drag me down  
If you fall then I will too_

_The End_

_

* * *

  
_**A/N: ****There you go. The final chapter in what I consider one of my better stories to date. I hope you've all enjoyed the read, and I can say with absolute certainty that I have. Any final comments you have, I would be grateful to hear. As if you hadn't guessed already, I have some unresolved issues with quite a few of the episode of seasons 5 and 6 and I felt that this was a pretty good place for me to resolve them, if not for other fans, then just for myself. Hopfully, it wasn't too much of a crazy way to end this, but Gibbs doesn't believe in happy endings and up to a point neither do I.**

**Anyway... **huge, **huge, huge, _huge, huge, HUGE_ thank you to inkpen1 for giving me this idea and allowing me to play around with it as much as I see fit.**

**Thanks also to all the loyal reviewers: SnowFox3, SherryGabs, diana teo, laoisbabe, angeleyes46, twomoms, movieholic, CD57, inkpen1, Silverfox2159, Gloworm41, Aqua Mage, Meabh, knightie, BnBfanatic, Moonlight83, Kateri1, fred/cymraes, louise1717 and louise, as well as all the others that reviewed as well during the course of my story.**

**One final thing! There will be a short sequel coming to your screen sometime in the near future - probably after Christmas - and I hope you enjoy it!**

**A/N+1: The lyrics at the end are from **_Without You _**by**_ Breaking Benjamin_**.**

**Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating Christmas, and a happy New Year!  
**

**Hawkeye  
**


End file.
